Hands
by 2queens1prince
Summary: A lilacmermaid prompt about Henry's hands.


AN: This lilacmermaid prompt came up and i just couldnt get it out of my head. its a little short for a one shot, but too long for a drabble. I'm not sure what to call it, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

Madam Secretary Prompt: It was Henry's hands that Elizabeth noticed first, and she spent months tormenting herself, wondering what they would look like spanning her waist, or feel like stroking her bare skin. (Or vice versa).

Elizabeth Adams grunted as she shifted the stack of six books, slowly making her way up the three flights of stairs. She liked the study tables on the third floor. The windows let in a lot of natural light and fewer people made the trek to the top floor. It just so happened that the books she needed were in the basement. She let out a breath when she finally made it to the top. Surprisingly, there were several people occupying the tables. Glancing from side to side, she spied a spot at the far end of the room that was empty. She wove carefully through the other tables, dodging backpacks and jackets laying haphazardly on the floor. Elizabeth had almost made it when a person scooted their chair out suddenly and she lost her balance. She managed to stay upright, but the stack of books went flying through the air, landing with a great clatter and accompanying echo.

"I am so sorry. I wasn't paying any attention. Are you okay?" The young man was beside himself. Elizabeth said she was fine and that it was no big deal. He rushed to pick up the fallen books. Elizabeth set a few on the table and he handed her the others. The only thing she noticed was the size of his hands.

"Do you play basketball?" The question fell from her lips as she thought he'd have no trouble palming the ball.

Lines formed across the man's forehead. "No why?"

"Just curious," she stammered, suddenly embarrassed at having asked the question. "Thanks," she said, gesturing to the books.

""You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." There was nothing more to say and the scene was becoming awkward. "I'm going to study now," she said, gesturing to the books before pulling out the chair to sit. He nodded and retreated to his table. Elizabeth set out her things and started working, but she found herself looking at the young man at the table one row up and to the right. He was leaning back in the chair, his feet propped up on the other side. His hands gripped the book he was reading. Yes, they were very large indeed.

She caught her mind wandering to his long fingers, and before she knew it, she imagined him holding her close, his fingers extended across her lower back, his thumbs nearly touching in front. Her skin felt tingly and her mouth was suddenly dry.

Elizabeth rose from the table and went to grab a drink from the water fountain. Trying to clear her mind, she took a few deep breaths before heading back. Over the next couple hours, she struggled to stay focused, her mind frequently and wandering to places she didn't think she needed to be.

That was the first of many such occurrences. Over time, she learned his name was Henry McCord, and he began to sit with her while she studied. They talked here and there and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore how Henry permeated her thoughts, Henry and his hands.

MSMSMSMSMS

Elizabeth sat at the table across from Henry. It was their second date. She liked everything about him. He was soft spoken and kind, intelligent and a good conversationalist. He was beyond physically attractive, but his hands remained the feature that Elizabeth was enamored with. She told herself that it was silly, but from the moment she first met him, it was his hands that caught her attention. They were large and looked strong, yet comforting.

Back when they first met in the library, she chastised herself for devoting so many thoughts to Henry's hands. At first, it was just how it would feel if he brushed her arm, or maybe held her hand, but as the months passed and they got to know each other, her thoughts turned to the feeling of his hands on her body, resting on her waist, spread wide across her bare back, running down the back of her leg as her heel pressed into his back.

She snapped out of her thoughts, her breathing shallow, and realized she was sitting at the table with Henry, and instead of listening to him, she'd been thinking that. He was watching her, a small smile, played on his lips. Her face flushed red, embarrassed to have been caught.

"I'd like to know what you were thinking." he said. "It looked," he paused. "Enthralling."

"Dance with me?" she asked, changing the subject. He grinned as he stood, and pulled her from the chair. His hand splayed wide across her back as he ushered her to the small dance floor made her feel dizzy.

Once on the floor, his hands fell to her waist and wrapped around her slender frame. Her breath caught in her throat. His hands felt like fire and she wanted squirm away as the pulse in her core started throbbing. Yet, she stayed, unwilling to give up the comfort it provided.

"Do we need to leave room for the Holy Spirit?" he asked. She looked up at him confused. He chuckled, "Catholic school joke. Nevermind."

The meaning registered, and she took a step closer. "I'm not in middle school nor do I see any nuns." His hand dropped down and caught her hand bringing it to rest between them and his other slid around resting on her lower back, pressing her firmly to his body. She rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat as they swayed to the soft music.

The song ended and they didn't part, now moving to their own rhythm. Elizabeth sighed. "I never want this to end."

"Me either," Henry whispered.

Elizabeth pulled back suddenly. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I didn't know I said that out loud." Her cheeks were bright red.

But I agreed," he murmured. He moved his hand around to her rib cage, his thumb dangerously close to stroking her breast. The throbbing which ebbed away during their dance flowed back in with intensity.

Their eyes met and she let out a shaky breath. Letting go of her hand, he cupped her cheek, his fingers tangling in her hair. "Henry." Elizabeth's voice came out shaky and sounded foreign to her. His hand was warm and slightly damp with perspiration, which somehow made her feel better that he was nervous too.

"Elizabeth," he said, lowering his head. Then his lips touched hers.


End file.
